the wednesday poem

"There is also in each of us the maverick, the darling stubborn one who won't listen, who insists, who chooses preference or the spirited guess over yardsticks or even history. I suspect this maverick is somewhat what the soul is, or at least that the soul lives close by." - Mary Oliver

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

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Neighbors in October All afternoon his tractor pulls a flat wagon with bales to the barn, then back to the waiting chopped field. It trails ...
Wednesday, September 22, 2010

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Falling A 29-year-old stewardess fell ... to her death tonight when she was swept through an emergency door that suddenly sprang open...
Wednesday, September 15, 2010

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A Route of Evanescence A Route of Evanescence, With a revolving Wheel – A Resonance of Emerald A Rush of Cochineal – And every Blossom on th...
Wednesday, September 8, 2010

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Toca su fondo y se remueve Una ola de luz densa, su fuego intacto. Una corriente, un viento suave que todo incita, que todo abrasa ye desata...
Wednesday, September 1, 2010

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Cicadas at the End of Summer Whine as though a pine tree is bowing a broken violin, As though a bandsaw cleaves a thousand thin sheets of ...
Wednesday, August 25, 2010

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On the Grasshopper and Cricket The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, ...
Wednesday, August 18, 2010

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Coming Home at Twilight in Late Summer We turned into the drive, and gravel flew up from the tires like sparks from a fire. So much to be do...
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